The Era of Intervention
by Mathelar
Summary: The Hero of the Wild's story did not have a happy ending, a fate that not even the golden Goddesses hadn't deigned to give him his due for having shouldered tragedies, the pain of ghosts past and sacrifices. Their inaction gave him free reign to act to save the Hero from his terrible fate. His promise wasn't forgotten, even throughout the eons of time.


A/N: Do apologize if the update to the first chapter sends alerts out, merely updating and fixing things that I've noticed since I don't have a Beta to consult these things with. Also, do note that I am still trying to get a consistent update schedule to this, so future apologies on any delay if RL rears its ugly head to delay things.

As for why I started this story. Well, I'm a sucker for the romances and the fate between two key characters in this story compelled me to start this story.

To those waiting for **A Foreigner in a Foreign Land** , do not Fret, an update is nearing soon.

* * *

Time.

A never-ending forward movement. A point of measurement as designated by mortals. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years, and so on.

The indefinite continued progress of all existence that was, is and will be.

In a way, it always was intriguing to see them do their best to abide by their measurements. For a being as him, it simply was and yet...

Once upon a time, he himself had been envious of their capability. The little details that one could gloss over throughout the ages, the moments that mattered, the sheer growth that occurred.

The corners of his lips tugged into a rueful smile.

No longer was he envious of it, having learned it from an exceptional person who defied everything that stood in his way. Yet, in the end, the very spirit of that person had lingered with regrets for countless years.

Even in such a state, the very promise given to him was never forgotten. He was forever grateful for their shared time together as companions and brothers-in-arms. Short as it was, it had left an impact on his very being that still carried to this day.

Much as it tugged at his core, the spirit had finally passed on to the great beyond, without any regrets at having passed on his skills to another who bore greatness out of choice, not duty.

Loss was always painful, be it physically, mentally or spiritually but in his heart of hearts, he knew that his friend was at peace with those who had loved and missed him.

Idly, he wondered if the one his friend had trained had been able to bear a lineage with his Princess. He'd give him that one, she was a spitfire of a woman. The knowledge of who he truly was hadn't even made her skip a beat in her sarcasm, anointing him with the title of 'He Who is a Sap'.

Suppose she was more correct than he knew at the time, having gained a soft side for those he watched over.

In the end, that was all that mattered. Their time shared together would not be forgotten and neither would be the duty on his shoulders.

As such, he continued his duly appointed task. Patiently waiting in silence as his gaze took in the sight of the one his promise and duty called to him.

What he'd seen in the time that was supposed to be, the sheer pain, grief, heart-ache and tragedy. All hoisted upon a young lad, nay a man, taken from his era without even a question.

Burdened with saving the land from the malevolence that was.

A land in ruins.

A land that was no longer what he would remember, even if those memories were fully brought back to the fore.

Someone such as him, who had seen countless horror, tragedies, and even once upon a time had brought forth his own share. Some would say it was the follies of youth, he would not disagree in a fashion and knew that the blood of innocents still stained his hands even as he toiled throughout time.

This man, this hero. The Chosen Hero. The Knight who'd braved the future of a wilderness filled with ruins with a stoic duty that was enviable...

He closed his empty eyes.

He dared not think what once was. Never before had he seen such a fate for a chosen hero, and not once had the so called Goddesses even deigned to grace him or even bless him with a wish.

The thought of them, their inaction at this man's fate enraged him.

Harkening back to his past, his ire grew and he clenched his fists as he did his best to restrain himself. It would not do to flare his power inside the decrepit temple, not when this land's 'hero' was on the cusp of his re-awakening.

He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

He knew that his actions would gain the ire of the Goddesses, but he cared not of what they would do. He doubted they would lower themselves from their golden thrones. If the Malevolence of this era had not prompted them to act, their inaction was effectively a fiat for which he was allowed to act.

If they did and he was 'graced' with their presence, he knew exactly what he would do.

Execute upon them great vengeance, furious rebukes; and they would know who he was, when his vengeance was upon them.

Anything less would insult his charge's now-dashed suffering that was.

Empty eyes once more gazed upon the sleeping form of his charge, the murky depths tinged with indecision. Even as the seconds ticked forward, he stared at his charge.

For him, time simply was. Such was the case that numerous paths forward for his charge were available, diverging completely of the future that was.

The very future that would never be as far as he was concerned, the 'golden' deities be damned.

He took another deep breath, pushing down his ire further.

Admittedly, even now as time moved ever forward, the future that would never be was erased by his very actions. Setting things in motion before the Calamity that would befall the land, even getting the assistance of his dear friend before his eventual passing.

The little details that mattered.

The corner of his lips curled upwards as his gaze shifted slightly, eyes crinkling in a emotion he would never get tired of, his features softened at what he saw.

An embrace that shouldn't have been broken but had been, leaving a man bereft with the ghosts of the past haunting him.

He stopped that particular train of thought, not wanting to risk his ire getting the better of him. Much as he toiled in his never-ending duty and path, his ire was once infamous, his name spoken in dread and fear.

But as all things, his very being slowly became a legend with his former apathy with mortals, name forgotten by all save one thing that his dear friend had found.

Ah, seemed it was time.

He turned away from the sight, closing his eyes as his form slowly started to fade from the mortal coil of the realm. He opened his mouth, words whispered and thrumming with power behind them.

"It is time. Wake up, my Child, for a land and its people cry out for salvation."


End file.
